A Life To Remember
by Sincerely Tiffany
Summary: After waking up in a small town, Erin has no recollection of her life. All she knows is what her husband has told her. All she knows is she fell and hit her head. But when she does start to remember, she finds out all is not as it should be and the man that's claiming to be her husband may be lying about more than just that.


A ball flies through the air, whizzing over the rocks as his dog chases after it. She leaps into the air, catching it in her mouth before running it back to her owner. James, sitting on a log, watching as his three-year-old dog practically gallops in his direction with the red ball in her mouth manages to earn a chuckle out of him. He takes the ball back, "good girl," he ruffles the top of his golden retriever's head before sending the ball flying in the opposite direction, catching his dog completely off guard and sending Ruby spiraling after it.

The ball lands and rolls away and when Ruby comes to an abrupt stop, James watches her. She's no longer looking at the ball and instead she moves towards a group of fallen logs that's been there longer than James has been alive, "Rubes," he calls out, whistling for his dog's attention. She doesn't look over and that isn't like her at all, "Ruby!" He tries again, this time standing up the second his dog moves closer to whatever has her attention, "Come here girl," he whistles and when she fails to listen for the third time, he jogs over.

He left his badge and weapon at home.

He was out for his morning run with Ruby and felt there was no use in bringing it.

He slows down as he approaches the water. He calls for Ruby again and this time she doesn't even bother looking in his direction. He moves closer and closer until he sees Ruby nudging her face with the wet tip of her nose. He takes off now, running closer and sliding to his knees in front of the injured woman, "Shit, hey," he tries to nudge her awake, "Hey," he checks her pulse -it's there and it's beating rapidly, "Can you hear me?" He sits her up and he sees her eyes open, her hazel orbs filled with fear as she shivers in his arms like a woman possessed, "You're freezing," he leans her against him as he starts to remove his sweatshirt, "Just hold on a second," he pulls the fabric above his head as she pants, her pale face resting against his shirt, "I'll get you warm in just a second. What's your name?" He puts the sweatshirt over her head and when she takes too long to answer, he asks again, "What's your name?" He pulls her arms through the sleeves, "Huh?"

"I-I," she shivers and her words stutter, "I-I don't know."

* * *

Her eyes shoot open, stretching wide from the sudden wave of adrenaline that coursed through her body. She sat up just as fast and in sync with the opening of her eyes and despite the ache of her sore muscles, the pain from her throbbing ribs and the pounding in her head, she threw the stack of blankets off her body, yanked the IVs out and pushed herself out of the bed, the hospital bed, she mentally noted. Her legs felt weak, her body lurching over onto the empty chair that was pushed so close to her bed that she wonders who had been sitting inside of it.

She clenched her hands around the arms of the chair, tightening them until her knuckles turned pale. Her head fell forward, chin now pressed against her chest and hair curtaining around her face, hiding her view from the rest of the room. Her brows furrowed when she looked up, paralyzed in fear and stunted by confusion.

She didn't recognize anything.

Everything about her surroundings were unfamiliar.

She pushed herself up, steadying herself before taking a breath and dragging her weak body to the private bathroom. Everything is so strange, so outside of her comfort zone. What happened? Why does her body hurt? Why is she here? How did she get here? How long has she been here? And when she turns on the light in the bathroom and looks at her appearance, staring into the reflection of her unfamiliar hazel eyes, she gasps, losing her breath when she whispers, "Who are you?"

* * *

She stares at the stranger in the mirror, her own reflection, for longer than she realizes. She's a foreigner in her own body, in her own life. She doesn't recognize the woman that is so obviously her. She shuts her eyes, squeezing them shut in the hopes that when she reopens them, it'll all be nothing but a bad dream, a nightmare that just so happened to go on for one second too long, one that she suddenly realizes isn't a night terror, it isn't a torment to her unconscious but rather a curse to her reality, a burden to her real life. The air, she could feel it leave her body the second her eyes are drawn to another reflection, a man standing directly behind her. She whips around so fast that she would have fallen over if it wasn't for him steadying her with his hands.

She's never seen this man before, but the scary part is if she did, she doesn't remember him, she doesn't recognize him at all. She could feel his hands slide up and down her arms, before he gently squeezes them, "Erin," he looked down into her eyes.

"Huh," she blinked in confusion, "Who?"

"You," he answered, sliding his hands down until they intertwined with her hands, "Come on. Let's get you back in the bed. You should get some rest."

Frantically, she shakes her head and rips her hands out of his grip. Erin -now that she knew that was her name- backed away from him in order to move back to the mirror, "Why am I here?"

"You got hurt," he calmly answered, moving to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and tucking his chin on her shoulder, "I don't know all of the details but you fell."

Erin rolled her shoulders in an effort to get him off of her. She doesn't know him. It felt weird to even allow any sort of touch to happen between them but based on the pout that fell on his lips, she could tell her rejection wasn't expected, "Sorry," her shoulders deflate and she doesn't even argue when he starts to lead her back to the hospital bed, "My head is just really foggy right now."

"No worries," he reassures, helping her crawl back into the bed, "the doctor said that you bumped your head pretty hard and you may suffer from forgetfulness. I'll get the nurse to reinsert the IVs."

"No," she reaches her hand out to stop him from walking away, "not yet. How hard did I hit my head? It's more than just forgetfulness though. I don't remember you. I don't remember me."

"I'm Landon," he introduces -and Erin knows based on his familiarity with her that it wasn't for the first time, "and I'll answer whatever questions you might have for me."

"Who are you?"

He chuckles because he'd just answered this question, "I'm Landon."

"No, I know that now," she shakes her head rather aggressively for someone that has a pounding headache, "but what I don't know is who you are to me?" She presses her finger into her chest for emphasis.

"Erin, I'm your husband."

* * *

Erin's eyes followed the gloved hands of the nurse as she reinserted the IVs. She was a sweet woman, the nurse, very empathetic, very motherly and concerned and despite her current state of amnesia and confusion, Erin appreciated it. She stared forward, as instructed by her doctor, as he shined a light in her eyes, watching her pupils react, "What's your name?"

"Erin," she answered before adding, "but Landon had to tell me."

She remembered the year. She knows the name of the current president. She could recall a lot but there was just as much she couldn't recall at all. Her doctor sounds certain enough that her memory will come back, the cloudiness and confusion isn't a result of brain trauma, she just needed time. She needed rest.

* * *

James, the sheriff of this small town, had knocked three times against the door before letting himself in. She met him twice since waking up and this was his third time visiting her -this time bearing the gift of flowers- which just so happen to bring a small smile to her face.

"Those are beautiful," she whispered as he placed them down by her bedside.

"…picked these from my own backyard."

He pulled a chair up to her bed and took a seat, "I hear that everyone's confident your memory will come back," the smile on her face falls, "maybe I can offer some help."

"I don't know how," she shrugs.

"Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

"It was dark outside," she shuts her eyes to try and force a memory, "it was storming too."

"What else? I found you near a lake. How'd you get there?"

"I-I-"

"Excuse me," Landon's voice suddenly fills the room when he walks in, "pushing her won't help at all. It'll come back at the right time. I would appreciate it if you did not pressure my wife into doing something she isn't ready to do yet."

James eyes widened in surprise, "Wife?"

"Yeah," Landon walks over to Erin and leans forward to press his lips against her head, "she doesn't remember yet but I'm confident those memories will come back too."

"I'm not sure I know you," James extends his hand, "I'm the town sheriff, James," he felt Landon wrap his hand around his so tightly that the cop was forced to snatch his hand away, "And you?"

"Landon, Erin's husband."

"What brought you to town? I'm familiar with everyone that lives here."

"We recently got a vacation cabin. We were there for our honeymoon. We were planning to go back home tomorrow but I guess we'll be staying a little longer because Erin's hurt."

"How'd you find out she was here?"

"I saw the report in the town paper," he runs his hand through his hair, yanking at the back before dropping his hand down to his side, "Jane Doe, brunette hair, hazel eyes, and I hadn't spoken to Erin in hours. She wasn't answering my calls. I got worried. I brought in a photo and the nurse identified her and then I identified myself as her husband."

That seems to appease the town sheriff enough for him to cease his interrogation. At least for now.

* * *

Erin threw the ball across the small hospital courtyard, watching it fly across the greenery as Ruby gave chase, galloping through the grass until she leaps in the air and catches the ball in her mouth.

"Whoa…" she whispered under her breath.

"Amazing, isn't she?"

"…very."

"Come on," James stands up from the bench, "I've convinced the nurse to let you out for a few minutes. Let's get you back before she chews my head off."

The nurse stood at the back entrance doors, watching the scene, smiling patiently as she watched the town sheriff and her mysterious patient make their way back into the building.

* * *

"Landon," the sheriff calls out, jogging down the hall to catch up with the man currently holding two cups of coffee in his hands, "I wanted to talk to you for a minute."

His shoulders tensed. He took a deep breath. He puffed out his chest. Then he let the breath out before turning around to face the officer, "What can I do for you?" He plasters on a phony smile.

"I know Erin lost her memory and she doesn't know what happened. As soon as she remembers something, anything," James reaches into his jacket pocket and withdraws his card, "let me know."

"Will do, sheriff." Landon manages to collect the card between two fingers while balancing the coffees.

* * *

In the following days, the doctors took her for testing and checked her vitals. Despite the pain, she was relatively in good shape for someone that took such a fall that it left her brain muddled with confusion. She's married for goodness sake and she had no idea. She doesn't have a ring on her finger but maybe it was removed when she was brought to the hospital or maybe it fell off and got lost during her travel down from wherever she fell. She didn't question it. She didn't care about the location of a ring when there's a man by her side, packing up her overnight bag in preparation to take her home.

"Penny for your thoughts," his back is to her as he folds the slippers, he told her they were her favorite pair to wear around the house. She didn't particularly like them, the material kind of made the top of her foot itch, but she didn't question it. She's too distracted by the idea of being married.

"It's hard for me to believe I have a husband." Erin is relieved to be out of the hospital gown. Since waking up a few days ago, she couldn't wait to be back in her own clothing, in her own shoes and hopefully -pretty soon- in her own home where maybe her surroundings will trigger her memory.

Landon leaves the bag opened on her bed and moves closer to her, reaching for both of her hands and bringing them to his chest, "We're newlyweds. We got married a month ago."

"I don't remember you. I don't remember us. I don't even remember me."

"You're Erin Lindsay, now Vanick since you took on my last name. You're 29 years old and you're from New York. You don't work, you prefer to stay home and be a housewife."

She can hear the door to her hospital room open and a nurse walking in but she ignores it and her, "I-" she interrupts herself as she tries to wrap her mind around the new details she's offered, none of it sounds familiar, none of it but her first name, maybe the rest of it will come later, "What about my parents? Do I have any siblings? What about friends?"

"Sorry Erin, you and your family don't speak. Apparently, something happened between you all a few months ago. They haven't spoken to you. They didn't even come to our wedding. They haven't reached out. I've called and I've left multiple messages to let them know what happened but no answer. They haven't even tried calling back."

Her shoulders slump forward. Her breathing stutters. She can feel the sympathetic eyes of the nurse fall to her before she whispers her apologies for intruding on such a private moment and taking her leave. Erin moves to the bed to finish packing up her hospital bag; her hands needed something to do as she processed the new information she was given.

"And as for your question about siblings, you had one. He died."

She drops the bag only a few seconds after picking it up, "What?" Her word came out in a broken whisper as she turns to face him, "He died? I had a brother. When did he die?"

"…a few years ago. He was killed. His name was Justin."

Erin inhaled a sharp breath, before slowly and calmly exhaling it, "Justin," she repeats the word and funnily enough, she sees a glimpse of his face, his smile and she knows that the memory that just played in her head was of him, was of her baby brother. She saw in her peripheral Landon pick up her bag and extend his hand for her to take, but she doesn't, she's too curious, she's filled with way too many questions, "How long have I been here?"

"…a week."

"…but," Erin doesn't have many memories to recall but she does remember everything said to her the second she opened her eyes, "you said we got married one month ago. And we're on our honeymoon?"

"We left at the end of the month. You got hurt a few days after we arrived."

"What happened?"

And her question is left unanswered when there's a soft knock on the door, the nurse from earlier is back, ready to discharge her out of the hospital so they can empty the room and prepare it for a new patient that needs it way more than she does right now.

* * *

For days Erin had been ready to leave the hospital but now that she was actually leaving, she wasn't ready to go. It's the only thing she knows, the only place that's familiar and now it's time to leave it. Landon went to pull the car around. And she's forced to sit in a wheelchair -hospital policy according to the nurse that's currently pushing the chair. Erin takes a deep breath, her shoulders so tightly wound up that it was even making the nurse nervous, "Are you okay?"

Silently, Erin answers with a nod.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Erin whispered, sounding unconvinced, "I just uh, I don't remember much and it's a bit frightening. I've grown so used to this place in the last few days. I've grown used to you and James," she looks over to the officer that's become such a supportive friend to her.

"Well how about this," the nurse locks the wheels to the wheelchair and circles around it before stooping low to be at eye level with her former patient, "I'll give you my number," she reaches into the pocket of her scrubs and withdraws a pen and a small crumbled up piece of paper -it's a receipt- and she jots down her cell number, "and you call me anytime you want some familiarity and don't forget, you'll be back here in a week anyway for your follow-up exam."

"Thank you." That meant more to her than the nurse will ever truly imagine. She was leaving with a man -not just any man but her husband- and going to a place that's apparently their home away from home. She doesn't remember anything about it or him but what reason would he have to lie about this, what reason would he have to come in a hospital and practically stay by her side every second since she woke up if he wasn't who he claimed.

* * *

"Where are we?"

Erin had her head resting against the headrest, tilted and leaned towards the window to take in the outside view. She didn't want to miss a thing.

"Wisconsin," he answered, turning the radio on and spinning the dial to turn the volume up, "we were staying about 30 minutes outside of the town. We wanted somewhere private and peaceful."

She took in the scenery, every part of her hoping that something, anything, would jog her memory. And while she did recognize a few buildings and street names, none of them actually sparked a memory of significance, just a dull moment from the past of her walking down a street, going into a store and leaving it. In all of them she was alone. And in each of them, they all were flashes from different times in the day, "What city am I from?"

Despite tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in sync with the beat to the song playing on the radio, he heard her and he responded without any forethought, "Chicago."

"Chicago," Erin whispered, raising her hand to scratch the back of her head, hoping her mind and her memory wasn't playing tricks on her, "but I thought you said I was from New York. I don't remember much but I'm pretty sure there isn't a city named Chicago in the state of New York."

For the first time since the start of the ride, he's looking over at her, taking her in, staring -nearly glaring- into the side of her head, trying to do the impossible and read her mind. He can't remember everything he's told her. He didn't put much thought into his answers. He just assumed she would forget anyway so there was no point in providing details. However, he underestimated the mind of Erin Lindsay; those are the only answers she has and she's holding onto them tightly.

"Uh," he rolls down the window to stall, "you were," he turns the dial in search of a different radio station in order to buy himself some more time, "you were born in New York, but your parents moved to Chicago when you were a kid." He mentally pats himself on the back for thinking so quickly on his feet.

"Are my parents still in Chicago?"

"No, they moved back to New York."

"Why haven't they come to see me? Why haven't they at least called?"

Erin doesn't see Landon roll his eyes at the endless amount of questions she's asking. He was trying to be patient. And they finally reached the halfway mark anyway so just a little more time before they'll finally get to the cabin. Landon didn't expect this. It was a fluke of luck that she suffered some form of amnesia, it was his second chance but he never took into account that he would have to put up with all of this. He can feel her staring into the side of his face, waiting for him to answer her last question.

"Erin, I told you," he sighs in an effort to suppress his frustration, "you guys aren't really getting along. You had a falling out. They cut you off."

"…but," he forces himself to focus harder on the road and not the wavering and broken sound of her voice, "but, I'm their daughter," she looks down at her lap, fingers tangled together, "I can't see whatever we disagreed about being that bad that with me getting hurt, they won't even want to check to make sure I'm okay. You said it yourself, my brother died, I'm their only living kid left and after getting messages about what happened to me, they didn't even call!"

Landon reaches his hand over to cover hers, "I've always thought you deserved better, Erin. I've always said it. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to tell you."

Erin felt hopeless, absolutely disheartened and lost. She needed him because he was her only connection to answers and memories. She felt like a nobody because of her lack of memories. She felt so dependent on him to provide her with the answers she should be able to provide herself. She wiped the corners of her eyes and sniffed to hold in any more tears that threatened to fall, "Tell me who I am," she sits up straighter, "please."

"You're Erin Vanick-"

And she interjects, "I want to know things you haven't already told me."

"…like what?"

"You mentioned I'm a stay at home wife. Why?"

Landon shrugs, "I make enough for the both of us. I'm a therapist."

"Why would I agree to that?" She might not have had her memory and she can't explain it but she can feel how that isn't something she would do. She's too restless, too much of a go-getter to stay at home and wait for her husband to return every single day.

"I'm not sure," he shrugs, "any other questions?" It was his way of changing the subject.

"Where'd I fall?"

"…a few miles from our home. You like to walk to get some fresh air, I think you slipped and fell. I found you and rushed you to the hospital right on time."

Erin's brows furrow in confusion because she though the sheriff was the one to find her.

* * *

By the time they pulled in front of the cabin, it was time for her to take her next dose of medicine. She couldn't even take in the outside of the home because Landon was already ushering her inside, "Welcome back," she startles at the sound of his voice, so close to her ear that if she moved her head just an inch, it would bump into his own. He leads her through the door, waving for her to walk ahead of him as he watched her take in her surroundings.

Erin doesn't waste a second. She's in the hallway, staring in confusion at the wall lined up with empty picture frames hanging, "I don't see any photos," her raspy voice whispers in confusion; she looks over her shoulder as red flags are metaphorically raised and her intuition starts to give her a bad feeling, "Why are the frames empty?"

…because I removed the photos inside of them, Landon thinks to himself. He couldn't have her seeing the photos of Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, the actual -former- residents of this cabin in the woods. If she saw them, she'd know something wasn't right, she'd ask too many questions, so he removed them, he destroyed them and he put the empty frames back in their place and answered her question with ease, "We didn't get a chance to fill them yet. We bought the frames, hung them up and we planned to put photos in that we took during our time here." He rehearsed that.

"Do we have any photos?"

And she still seems to be hesitant of him.

"We do," he smiles before waving for her to follow him into the den, "I haven't had a chance to hang these two photos up yet," he grabs the frames lying on the end table, "the first picture is from our first date and the second is from our first time going on vacation together."

Erin grips the frames in each hand, eyes zeroed on her face and just how happy she appears to be in the picture, "Where did we go?" She whispers before her eyes flash to his own face in the photo.

"Florida," he reached out to take the photos back but she didn't let go. She wasn't done staring at them yet, "What's going through that head of yours?"

"Um," she blinks, eyes going back to the first date picture, "Why'd you hang up empty frames but not the two frames that actually have pictures in them?"

"You wanted the hallway frames to be filled with photos of our time here in Wisconsin. These pictures will be hung up in here. I haven't had the chance to hang them yet." Landon waits a second and tries reaching for the photos again, this time she holds on tighter than she did the first time he reached out for them, "Erin, I'm not the bad guy here. I'm your husband. Would the hospital allow me to visit you if I wasn't? These pictures prove that we're together, they prove that we were happy and when you get better physically and we head home, I'll show you our marriage certificate if it'll make you happy," that last part was meant to be a joke. She didn't take it as one.

"I think that would be a good idea." She releases the photos back into his care.

When she turns to leave the den, his grip tightens around the frames and before she takes a step outside of the room, he's tossing the pictures onto the couch and racing over to catch up to her, "It's time for you to take your meds. Come on," he reaches for her arm, "You can get the official tour afterwards. We don't want you to be behind on your pills."

Without argument, she goes with him. She lets him lead her into the kitchen. No suspicion. No hesitation in her body. For the first time since she walked through the front door, she found herself relaxing because the sight of the pictures had counted for something, they had to at least prove she did know him before the accident.

* * *

Erin springs forward, eyes snapping open, her body covered in a cold sweat as she looks around the room in fear and suspicion, as if maybe her nightmare had come alive, as if her nightmare was something she actually experienced outside of her slumber. She rubs her eyes to clear her vision, to try to see better in the dark room that only illuminates every few minutes when a strike of lightening lights up the night sky. She runs both hands down her face in an effort to fully awaken.

She struggles to catch her breath.

Her nightmare felt so real.

She covers her heart with her hand, feeling the pounding of its erratic beat. She reaches over with her free hand in search of Landon, to shake him awake since her sudden movement didn't arose him from what she can only assume is a deep slumber, "Wake up," she whispers, moving her hand around the bed under the barrier of pillows she put up between them to make sure their bodies stayed separated, "Landon," she speaks much louder. There was no point in whispering in the first place since her goal was to wake him up, "Landon," she feels nothing but empty space and in her confusion she grabs the string of the lamp on the bedside table and flicks the light on, only to discover the opposite side of the king size bed was empty.

Erin takes a glance around the room now that the light was on but he was nowhere to be found.

"Landon," she calls out. She throws the covers off her legs and steps out of bed, "Landon," she shouts out, shoulders startling at the sound of thunder booming outside the cabin.

It's storming. It's triggering emotions that she can't process. It's pouring rain outside, pattering against the cabin and every few minutes thunder and lightning roar and flicker so loudly and so brightly that it paralyzes her for a few seconds, "Landon," she calls for him even louder. And she gets the sudden idea to call him, but as she searches for a cell phone, she realizes it was never given to her. She never requested for her phone. She'll have to settle on the landline if only she can find it, "Landon," she keeps calling out as she searches for a phone.

She finds one in his office. She lifts it from its hook.

It doesn't work. There's no dial tone. And she doesn't even know his number.

"Hey," she feels a hand against her shoulder and she shouts, dropping the phone and whipping around so fast that she nearly topples over, "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Landon reaches to pick up the phone and he sets it back on the hook.

"It doesn't work," she tells him.

"The storm must have knocked the phone lines out." He doesn't seem too concerned by it.

"We shouldn't be without a phone."

Landon extends his hand out towards her, eyes wide in hopes that she'll accept his offered hand, "Let's get you back to bed. You need your rest."

"…but what about a phone? We need a source of communication. We're in the middle of the woods. What if we need to call someone?"

"I have my cell."

She still doesn't take his hand, "…and what about mine? Where's my cell? I know I have one."

"You took it with you when you fell. It's out there somewhere. We'll get you a new one when we get back home to Chicago."

She accepts that answer. And she puts her hand in his, allowing him to guide her out of the office and back upstairs. Landon only releases her hand when he's pulling the covers back, nodding for her to climb back in, "I had a nightmare. I woke up and you were gone. Where'd you go?"

"The storm woke me up," he makes eye contact with her; he smiles and it's so trustworthy and believable, "I went to make sure all of the windows and doors were locked."

"I called for you."

"I couldn't hear you over the storm."

"…multiple times."

"Well I don't know what you want me to tell you Erin, I didn't hear you," he snaps, pulling the drawstring of the bedside lamp so hard that it nearly falls over, "Damn."

Erin lies back, shimmying under the covers and pulling them up to her chin before rolling over onto her side. It's dark in the room now but she can see his silhouette. He stands above her, and it makes her feel uncomfortable enough that she forces herself to sit back up, at least until he's no longer hovering above her, intimidating her -unintentionally- with his size.

"I'm not trying to be difficult, Landon."

"I know," he reaches out to pat the covers above her leg, running his hand up and down until she casually shifts enough to the side to force him to stop without even noticing that was her intent, "I'll let you get back to sleep. I only checked the front. I'm going to check the back and then I'll be up here. You going to be alright?" She nods, "Great," he kisses her forehead and then leaves.

* * *

Only a few days had drifted by at such an excruciatingly slow pace since the fall, since going back to the cabin. Food was running low. Batteries ran out after the two storms that just blew through town. They needed a few necessities and Landon made a trip to town -without her- to get them. Hoping to duck in and out of the nearest stores without being seen proved to be easier said than done. It might have been possible in a large city but a small town made the attempt pointless. He almost made it though, he almost got back to his car without being spotted but once he loaded the bags in the back of the truck, his named was called.

Landon ignores it. He pretends as if he doesn't hear the sheriff calling out for him.

The sheriff calls out his name again.

And once more, he ignores it. With a little pep in his step, he goes around his car and opens the driver's side door, hoping to hop inside before the sheriff catches up.

"Landon," eye contact is made and now he can't pretend as if he didn't hear his name called.

"Hi sheriff," he waves and despite James walking over, he still slides into his car. He shuts the door, starts the engine and rolls down the window, hoping the sheriff takes the hint and leaves him alone, "sorry I can't really talk. I'm kind of in a hurry."

"I won't keep you long," James says, hand pressing against the roof of the car as he leans down to the window to speak with Landon, "I just wanted to ask about Erin."

"She's fine," Landon buckles his seat belt, "Anything else?"

"I was hoping that one day this week I can come up to wherever you two are staying to visit her, see how she's doing, see if she remembers anything or needs anything."

"I don't really think that's a good idea. Erin isn't up for visitors right now."

The sheriff takes a look in the back seat. He sees the number of bags, some of the food sticking out and a few tools and storage materials. James squints to try and take a better look, "What's all that for?" He nods towards the back seat.

"Food and just some stuff to protect the cabin from all the stormy weather we've been getting lately."

James doesn't respond right away. He takes in the information. And Landon impatiently sits behind the steering wheel, tapping his nails, "I should be going. Erin is waiting."

"Where exactly are you-"

"I really have to go. I've left the wife waiting long enough."

Landon doesn't give the sheriff another chance to respond, to pose the question he can assume was about to be asked before he's pulling off, leaving the sheriff standing alone in the empty parking lot, staring at the out of state license plate, confusedly watching the truck until it turns and is no longer within his field of vision. James blinks into focus before shrugging off that natural gut feeling that maybe something isn't right before heading to his police cruiser.

* * *

Erin doesn't sit still. There is no television. There is no radio. There is no computer. There is no cell phone. There is nothing for her to do but to read one of the many books on the shelves lined up in the office. She stands barefoot in the only carpeted room in the cabin -besides the den- staring at the mediocre bookshelf. She needs something interesting, something long, something that'll make her feel less like a prisoner in her own home.

She grabs one at random. She doesn't even bother to look at the cover, to read the title or the summary at the back of the book. She goes to the desk chair, flops down into it and starts to read the first sentence of chapter one, growing bored instantly. Maybe if she read more? Maybe if she actually gave the book a chance? And she did, she tried and by chapter three, she was tossing the book on the desk and leaning her head back, dragging her hands down her face and sighing loudly, "Ugh," she lifts her head up and stares down at the desk, "There has to be something around here to do," Erin reaches for the desk drawers, hoping that she'd find a boardgame or a deck of cards, something, anything to pass the time. She can teach herself a card trick? Or she can play herself at chess? Anything would be better than what she's been doing.

The first drawer is empty, literally empty. There are no pens, no pads, no anything inside of it. The second one is too and so is the third but by the time she got to the last, she was ready to call it quits, to basically give up in her search because if there was nothing in the first three, there was most likely nothing in the last. She's glad she didn't listen to that voice inside her head because there is something and her eyes widen in surprise.

"Hopefully there's a deck of cards in here," she grabs the small metal box and pulls it out, "Ugh," she whispers when it doesn't open; it's locked, "I doubt there are any cards in here," because seriously who would lock cards up, and the box is too small to fit a boardgame, however, despite knowing she wouldn't find a deck of cards inside, her interest was piqued and she want to know what was in it. Erin holds the box and stands, moving around the desk to lean against the corner of it, "It needs a small key," she whispers to herself after looking at the keyhole.

She already practically searched the desk for games and she knows there are no keys anywhere in it. She checked the bookshelf too, running her fingers down each of the six shelves and finding nothing. She checked under the rug. She checked the cushion of the chairs in the room. Nothing.

Erin wasn't going to find a key. It's a lost cause. But she was curious enough about the contents of the box that she gripped the opening with her fingers and tried to pry it apart with all her strength.

"What the hell are you doing?"

His boisterous voice makes her jump, the box nearly slipping from her grasp. She turns around, caught holding the metal box in her hands, attention going back and forth between his glaring eyes and the box that's still locked shut, "I-I was just looking around. I found this but I can't find the key for it and I can't for the life of me seem to get it open."

"That's because it's not yours to open. It's mine and it's off limits."

"What's in it?"

"That's none of your business. Just leave my stuff alone please."

"I-I just thought-"

"You thought wrong. That's my personal property and I would appreciate it if you didn't do this again. Leave it alone."

She can see the passion behind his orbs. She can see the swirling of mixed emotion threatening to be expressed in action. She swallows, "I'm sorry."

Landon doesn't respond. He doesn't accept or reject her apology. Instead he snatches the box out of her hands and turns to walk out of the room with it, leaving her standing in the office, staring at the back of his head until he slams the office door shut behind him.

* * *

Erin pushes the current book she's been reading away from her. She's tired of reading. She's tired of words. She leans back, sinking into the couch cushion, limbs tired because her medicine was starting to set in. She rolls her head to the side to look at him, to watch him as he watches her, "It's a bit creepy when you do that," she whispers yet he doesn't stop, "when you stare," she adds.

"Sorry, you're just so damn beautiful."

She forces a smile, dimples setting so deep into the center of her cheeks that it makes the smile believable, "Thanks." She holds it for a few seconds before it suddenly, unintentionally drops.

"What's with that look?"

She shrugs her shoulders, "I'm just bored. There has to be something else to do around here."

"You like to read."

"It feels like that's all I've been doing lately."

"…then cook. You like doing that."

The frown lines on her face deepen, "I don't remember much but I know I don't like cooking," she chuckles dryly, shaking her head in disbelief, "that doesn't even sound like me."

"How would you know though?"

And for that question she had no answer. She says nothing. She just has a hunch, a feeling that cooking wasn't something she did as a hobby but she had no way of explaining it in a way that he'll fully understand. She doesn't want to argue so she stays on mute.

"You like to listen to music." Landon says to break the tension.

"…but what am I supposed to listen to it on?" To add emphasis to her question, she glances around the room, hinting for him to point out a television, a computer or a radio.

"We came here to get away from all of that."

"So why even name that as something I like to do if I can't do it?"

"Hey," he mutters, moving closer to the couch, reaching out to grab her arm and tug her up to her feet whether she wanted to get up or not, "there's no need to get smart. I'm not the bad guy here. I was just trying to help you find something to do. I forgot."

"I can listen to music on your phone."

"…no, you can't because that's my phone. You lost yours somewhere."

"Not on purpose," she retorts.

"…so what? You still lost it. It was irresponsible if we're being honest, but we'll get you a new phone when we get back to the city."

"…and when is that?"

"When you're feeling better…"

"I'm feeling better."

"…when you're actually better, Erin. You're not ready."

"I'm not ready to sit in a car for a few hours to go back home?"

"You're not ready. And let that be the end of that discussion."

* * *

"I want to go out."

Landon waves his arm towards the front door, "Well go ahead, no one's stopping you."

"I want to go out and visit the town," she clarifies her earlier statement.

And he shakes his head, "No, that's not a good idea. You're not ready for that yet."

"How would you know? You're not me. You're not a doctor."

"I'm not going to repeat myself, Erin."

* * *

James rest his arm against the receptionist desk, leaning against the oak as he waits for the secretary to come back with the nurse. For such a small town, it feels like this little hospital is always busier than usual, too many hunting accidents and car crashes this time of year. He swivels around at the sound of his name being called and he meets the nurse and offers her a friendly hug, "Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"Sorry, I'm here for an official visit."

"Hopefully I can help," she sets her clipboard down onto the receptionist desk before giving him her undivided attention, "What can I do for you?"

"Did Erin ever call to make her follow-up appointment?"

"No," the nurse pouts, "she hasn't called at all. I even gave her my personal number. We've tried reaching out on multiple occasions but her husband gave us two numbers, one was the wrong number and the second number is disconnected."

"What's Erin's name on file?"

The nurse is hesitant to offer up that piece of information. She bites her lip and fumbles with a loose thread dangling from her scrubs. She looks up to meet his eyes, "James…"

"I know and you know I wouldn't ask unless this was important. I feel bad for the woman. I don't need to know her medical history or any personal information. I just need a last name, that's it, and it'll stay between us and I won't ask for more."

"Those brown eyes probably always get you want you want, don't they?"

He smiles in success, watching her as she moves around the receptionist desk, shaking the mouse to wake up the computer before typing into the database. James patiently waits. He just needs to know what name she was registered under after her husband identified her. She was a Jane Doe for a day and then when Landon came rushing in, offered a photo to support his claim that he knew her, they changed her name in her file once he identified himself as her husband.

"Erin Vanick," the nurse grabs a sticky note and a marker that's starting to dry out to jot down the spelling of her first and last name, "I'm assuming it's her legal married name," she hands it over to him, holding onto it tightly until he meets her eyes, "Is everything okay with her?"

"Yes," he says in an effort to reassure her, "I just want to verify everything, maybe see if she has more family out there, I can call. Maybe they returned back home? I just have too many questions and I won't be able to rest until I answer them all."

The nurse releases her grip on the sticky note, "okay then…good luck."

He pockets the note, "thanks, you're the best." And he takes off out the same doors he entered through moments ago.

* * *

"I want to reach out to my parents."

Landon drops the ax he's been using to chop wood. He's sweating despite the cool temperature of the day. He slowly turns to her, watching her as she stands on the back porch, hands on her hips.

"That's not a good idea." He reaches for the ax and resumes chopping up wood for the fireplace.

"I don't think that's a decision for you to make…"

This time he sits the ax down carefully, "Erin," he says in warning, moving the chopped wood over to the side before grabbing another one to set down in preparation to be chopped, "you're not calling your parents. That decision is final."

"…and what if I say my decision is final? You're not the only one that can make decisions."

"I'm not trying to argue with you."

"Great," she moves down the back stairs, "then where's your phone so I can give them a call."

"You don't even know their number."

"I'm pretty sure you have it saved."

"I don't."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"I don't know but that's more of a problem for you than me."

Erin stops in the grass, arms wrapping around herself and the warm wind blows through her hair. She's glaring at him, "What the hell is your problem?"

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to like that?" He takes large strides over. He stands a foot above her, matching her glare, "Watch your mouth Erin."

"…or what? What are you going to do?"

"You're really trying me right now."

She rolls her eyes, turning around so fast that her hair smacks him in the face. He reaches for her upper hand, gripping it tighter than usual and turning her back around, "We're not done with this conversation. What has gotten into you?"

"What has gotten into me?" She asks in disbelief, pointing at herself to verify that he's actually asking her that question, "I'm going stir crazy here. And anytime I ask any type of question your ass gets all bent out of shape about it. I want to talk to my parents, I don't care if we're mad at each other, I don't care, I want to talk to them, why do you have such a problem with that?!"

"…because they're dead." He's unmoved, unaffected by the boulder he just dropped on her, "they died in a car accident this year."

"I-I don't understand."

"You and your parents tried to talk things out, squash whatever issues was going on, it didn't work, it backfired, they stormed out, they got in a crash that night. End of story."

He goes back into the house before she's able to notice the sigh of relief escape him the moment she accepts his answer. He leaves her standing there heartbroken, grieving the loss of her parents, one of which was still very much alive.

* * *

Erin Vanick did not exist. He couldn't find anything attached to the name; no birth certificate, no social security information, not even a parking ticket. It's almost like she doesn't exist. However, there is always the possibility that she didn't file for a name change, that she still goes by her maiden name, that's always a possibility. He doesn't know her maiden name. But he does know Landon's name, he restarts his search, typing in Landon Vanick this time and waiting as the database picked up and started loading such an extensive criminal history that dates back to when he was a prepubescent teenager and mental health records that he doesn't have access to -from Landon's few times behind bars when he had to see a prison shrink.

A red alert appears once the entire page loads.

There's a warrant out for his arrest in Chicago.

James prints out the wanted photo. He makes copies of it and passes it along to his two deputies.

It's a list of charges, one of them is a charge of kidnapping and that leads the sheriff to no longer be curious about Erin but to now be concerned for her. An arrest and a warrant do not equal guilt, being found guilty in a court of law does, however with the way James gut is turning, he has all the confidence in the world that this kidnapping charge and Erin are related.

* * *

Landon stands at the end of the bed. His eyes focus on the blanket covering her feet before slowly gliding up the bed, stopping to rest and focus on her face, "So beautiful. I'm only trying to protect you Erin. I love you so much. I don't want any harm to come to you."

The furrowed brows, the crinkles on her forehead and the frown on her lips lets him know that whatever she's dreaming about isn't pleasant. She's having a nightmare. He doesn't wake her up though. He continues to watch in silence, listening to hear if she utters a word in her sleep. As long as she doesn't remember, as long as she trusts and believes in him, he'll never pose a threat to her.

* * *

Landon rolls over onto his side, head propped up by his closed fist. He uses the tips of his fingers to run up and down her figure, coaxing her to look at him, "Hi."

"What are you doing?"

"…isn't it obvious?" He leans forward to kiss her shoulder.

"I hope you're not trying to initiate what I think you're trying to initiate."

"And if I was," now he's sitting up, highly offended by her sudden rejection, "what's the problem with it? I'm your husband and we haven't…you know…in weeks."

She rolls over, turning in the opposite direction before offering him a brief explanation, "I don't feel well and I'm not in the mood."

* * *

"I have a question," Erin makes her presence known and it nearly causes him to drop the spatula. He's cooking, whatever it is she doesn't know, but it does smell good.

"…okay," he says a bit hesitantly because over the last few days she's been asking more and more questions and getting more and more stubborn with his lack of thoroughness in answering them.

"Did you call the telephone company? The landline still doesn't work."

"Yeah," he coughs, turning away from the food so he doesn't spread his germs, "a lot of the town landlines went out so they have a lot on their plate. They'll get out here to fix ours once they have the town back up and running."

"You're my husband…" she says slowly and he nods along, shoulders growing tense because he doesn't understand why that's the words she chose to lead into her next question, "but you haven't told me much of anything really. My parents and brother are dead. I was born in New York but I grew up in Chicago. I'm also a housewife apparently. You haven't really given me anything else."

Landon turns off the stovetop and sets the spatula down on the folded napkin. He runs his hands down his pants, brushing them to stall for more time, "What else do you want to know then?" He swallows roughly and she raises her brow suspiciously.

"What's my favorite color?" She starts small.

"…yellow."

"No, it's blue."

He rolls his eyes, "And how would you know?"

"I didn't forget everything Landon. And slowly but surely my memory is coming back."

"So why ask me a question you already know the answer to?"

"…because you're my husband and I'm interested in knowing how well you know me."

"I'm not going to play these little mind games with you."

"Great," she clasps her hands together, "then we're on the same page because this isn't a game. What month is my birthday in?"

"April."

He's right. She nods to acknowledge that.

"Did I have a job before we met?"

"Yes."

"…and what was that?"

"You were in law enforcement."

Suddenly she's hit with a flashback. It comes so fast that she barely had time to prepare for it. She's looking through the eyes of her past self, she's dressed in plain clothes, sporting a badge attached to her hip and a gun raised in her hands, aiming forward as she shouts commands at a hidden suspect. She was a detective. Through her eyes, she's hit with another memory, in a different setting, this time she's sitting behind a desk laughing and she's the only one visible in the memory. She doesn't see any other faces, but she hears voices, familiar voices around her, voices that she can't name right now. She looks happy in the memory, in the collection of them, she feels happy just at the thought of them, so why would she leave a job that it looks like she loved?

"Erin," she breaks out of her reverie as soon as she hears him whisper her name in concern; he's touching her elbow, tugging her forward to come closer, "Are you okay? Did you remember something? Are you getting your memory back?"

"Uh," she starts to stutter, "Um," her mind buffers before she settles on lying, "No. No uh no memories. I just started daydreaming sorry. I'll let you get back to cooking."

* * *

Erin tries the landline again and it still doesn't work. Just because the cabin is out in the middle of the woods doesn't mean they should be the last priority for the telephone company.

She puts the phone back down on the hook and then tries it out again. No dial tone. Nothing.

She's bored. She's read majority of the books in the office, the rest of them she has no desire to read. She's walked and explored every inch of this cabin. She's running low on her prescription and she'll need to get them refilled soon. And she's probably caught up on more sleep this week than she has in her entire life. There is nothing to do. Nothing.

And Landon went to town again today without her. He left before she woke up, probably because he didn't want her asking to tag alone. The jerk…

Erin dragged her feet into the den. It has such boring colors, brown walls, a tan couch and an end table that's made out of oak and she knows based on how she keeps rolling her eyes every time she walks in the room that she had no parts in designing this. Erin flops down onto the couch in the den, eyes drawn to the artwork hanging on the walls and she's never been an art enthusiast, but there is nothing better to do than observe the artwork. She stares so hard at the abstract painting that she zones out, eyes going out of focus until she blinks back into concentration. This was just as boring as when she sat in the rocking chair on the porch for over an hour.

She rose to her feet, moving closer to the painting to take a closer look. It's boring; this is not something she likes to do but she has nothing else to do. Erin explores the den, roaming around, brushing her fingers against every piece of furniture until her foot bumps against something hard, something metal and light and whatever it hit was pushed further away. She drops to her knees, reaching beneath the corner table, stretching her arm out and maneuvering it just enough to touch the edge of the box and pushing it to the other end until it's no longer under the table.

It's the metal box; it's the one Landon snatched from her a few days ago. And it's still locked.

Not wanting to waste time in searching for the key, she reaches up into her hair, grabbing a hair pin and going straight to the lock. She has picked locks a few times in her youth but she was a bit rusty. It takes her longer than she expects and that makes her nervous. Landon will be back any minute now and she has no idea how she'll explain this if she's caught.

It unlocks. It pops open. And the brief smile of victory drops the moment she sees the contents inside. Strands of hair that match the color and texture of her own. They couldn't possibly belong to her, right? And regardless of if they did or not, why does he have someone's hair locked in a box? She doesn't think about it for long, she doesn't even touch the hair, she simply shakes the box to move it to the side to see keys and photos, -a stack of them.

Erin drops to sit on the corner table, moving the box to rest beside her as she grabbed the stack of pictures. She looks through them, all of them are pictures of her, all of them are of her with a man, someone that isn't Landon. The photos look familiar and the longer she stares, the more she starts to remember about the day the picture was taken. The man in the photo though, his face sparks something inside of her, something that calls out to her. Erin rises to her feet, something about the photos are familiar and once it dawns on her, she races out of the den and into the office, scanning his desk until she finds it, the photos of her with Landon.

They're the same. The only difference is the face. It's as if Landon's face was placed over the face of the other man. Every other aspect of the photo from the clothes worn to the background is the exact same. It's photoshopped. She holds up the one of her and Landon and then she holds up the other one of her and this mystery man. Now that she stares closer, she can see the slight alter, the mess up because Landon's face isn't right, to her trained eyes, she can see the minor blur that's significant enough to let her know which photo is fake. She looks at the real image. Her eyes are drawn to the man, to that face, he's handsome, sort of angelic. She stares harder and it sparks something within her, it brings tears to her eyes, ones mixed with both joy and sadness, "Jay," she whispers just as she's suddenly overwhelmed by the memories that start to assault her. Every. Single. Last. One. Of. Them. She remembers it all.

She's married, just not to Landon. She's married to her partner. Remembering that name brings back so many memories of everything: date nights, arguments, making love, car chases and investigating cases. So many memories, so many flashbacks and she's speechless by it all.

She has a mother, Bunny, and she's very much alive.

The man that came into her life when she was a teenager and practically raised her as his own is her boss and he's very much alive.

His wife and son are not though. Landon didn't lie about that.

Justin was killed. Camille died of cancer.

She's born in Chicago. She's only visited New York, twice, she wasn't born in it.

She remembers it all. She even remembers what happened to her. She was taken. She was duct taped, tied with rope and thrown into the trunk of a car. She was driven here.

She remembers how she lost her memory.

Erin ran down the long corridor, chancing a look over her shoulder after ever few seconds to see if he was still there. He was. She can see him getting closer with every extra push. Erin threw the front door open, running down the porch steps and out into the night, hoping the cover of darkness would work in her advantage. It had its benefits but it also had its downfalls because she could barely see herself. And when it started to rain, blurring her vision in the darkened night, she felt fear climb up her spine. This wasn't supposed to be happening.

She felt her foot slip in the muddy rain water.

She wasn't going in the right direction.

It's a drop. It's a hill. And despite the darkness and the rain, she was able to stop herself from running down it because she would have went tumbling.

She backed away from the hill until hands slammed against her back and before she could do anything about it, she felt a strong shove overpower her and send her tumbling forward.

A scream, high-pitched and filled with absolute fear escaped her. She tried to reach for her attacker to stop herself from falling but he was just out of her grasp. She tried to reach for something, anything to hold onto, to grab in an effort to prevent her inevitable downfall but she wasn't fast enough, she wasn't strong enough and as her body made impact with the ground, the last thing she saw before her vision faded was Landon's face -illuminated by the moonlight- smiling down at her.

Erin snaps out of the flood of memories when she hears tires on the gravel outside. He's back. And in what little time she has left, she stuffs it all back into the box, relocks it and puts it right back where she found it.

* * *

Voight is pacing back and forth in front of Mouse's desk, waiting for word, waiting for something, anything his tech guy can offer on Erin's disappearance. Nothing is perfect. There should have been some type of clue left at the scene but there was nothing but security footage of her being snatched from the parking garage at her apartment. They got the car model and the year but the license plate was covered and the second he was out of the garage; he probably tore off the covering. He's not that smart but they've found evidence of him plotting and planning this for years. He's been in love with her since they were kids. That love for her has only grown with every year that passed and the second she got married, that love turned to obsession.

And now he has her.

He's had for about a month now and they don't know whether she's alive or dead.

Voight and Halstead can only hope that because he was so desperate to be with her then that meant she was guaranteed to stay safe. You can't be with someone if they're dead. They've got a profile done for Landon with Dr. Charles help. Landon is delusional. He doesn't know what's real over what's fake. He believes in something that is untrue; he believes that Erin is in love with him and they're supposed to be together. At least that much was gathered by the number of letters they've found sent to her leading up to her abduction.

Landon is so stuck in his delusion that any attempt to contradict his belief will more than likely arouse so much anger and hostility that it'll put Erin in danger. They hope she goes along with it, at least until they can find her because he won't be able to take opinions that are not his own and being questioned as if he's a liar will send him spiraling. He'll only be able to take so much and the more he's pressed about it, the higher the chance that he'll react.

Voight bites down on his fist at just the thought of him putting his hands on her. He better not touch her. He better not even think about touching her.

"Mouse, did you find anything?" It's Jay that shouts the question they all have been wondering. He feels bad for the man; they had just gotten married and a week after they returned from their honeymoon, she's taken. Jay's distraught, but what can you expect from a man whose wife was kidnapped? He hasn't slept much if the darkness around his sunken eyes has anything to say about it. He's lost weight because he hasn't been eating much and has spent majority of his free time at the gym, gaining more muscle weight.

His phone rings, interrupting his thoughts.

A Wisconsin area code popping up followed by digits that are just as unfamiliar.

Voight answers rudely, "What?"

"You have a warrant out for the arrest of Landon Vanick," James gets straight to the point, bypassing any introductions, "He's in my town."

"Wait wait wait," Voight abruptly comes to a stop, hand tightening around the phone as he pushes it harder against his ear, "When you saw him, was there a woman with him? Erin Lindsay?" He cares more about finding her than finding Landon. He has no clue if she's still alive or not, maybe he killed her and he's on the run. He doesn't know but he needs to find out. He needs answers. For over a month, they've feared the worse, finding her body or never finding her at all.

"I know the first name. I don't know the last."

"I think it's the same person but just to be sure I'm going to send you a photo," he waves for Jay to follow him into the office, placing the phone on speaker and writing down the cell number James read off to him; he must be calling from his work phone because it's a different number than the one on Voight's screen, "God I hope it's her."

Jay hadn't gotten much sleep since the day of her disappearance. It's been a month but it's felt like a year. "What's going on?" He's scared to feel hopeful. Every time he has hope, it's just another day of disappointment, of not having his wife in his arms and at his side. He's been grasping at straws; he hasn't slept at home because there are too many reminders of her so he's been camped out on Will's uncomfortable sofa bed. He has to find her.

"Send a photo of Erin to this number." He slides the sheet of paper to Jay. And without asking any follow-up questions, he sends the most recent photo of her to the number he was given.

"It should be coming. If you verify it's her, I'm going to need your location."

Seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours before they hear a ping in the background indicating that his cell had just received the text.

James rushes to type in his password before clicking on the unsaved number, tapping the photo and expanding it as a gust of air blew out of his lungs, "That's her."

Jay's head snapped up. His phone dropped from his hand. After a month of searching, they finally got a lead. And once James sent the address of the small-town police station he's currently calling them from, they gear up and head out for the two hour drive out of state.

* * *

Erin is paranoid. She puts everything back in the exact same place she found it. She has to play it cool until she can get away. She can either steal his keys and drive off, maybe when he's asleep? Or she can just take off running now, go into the woods and pray that he doesn't find her? She'll have to weather the storm that's supposed to hit for the next two days but braving the weather over braving him has to be the better option. No, she should be fine here, as long as he doesn't suspect she knows anything, she should be fine. She should be safe.

She has to remember her training. She has to keep a leveled-head and play it safe until she can get the upper hand and get away. She has to go along with whatever delusion he has going through his mind. She has to buy herself time, as much of it as possible because she knows Jay is looking for her and he isn't giving up no matter how much time passes.

She doesn't know where he brought her.

She just remembers a long car ride.

She doesn't know how long it'll take for her to get back to the town on foot.

By car, the ride felt long. She can't imagine how long the walk would be, especially when the elements of nature start to fall upon her.

She should run but the last time she tried, he found her and he pushed her.

But, she was found miles away from here. He must have moved her. The sheriff must have found her at a location she was placed instead of here because Landon knew it would only draw unwanted attention to a cabin that doesn't belong to him.

It doesn't belong to him. Where are the owners?

* * *

The team pulls up and James meets them at the front door of the small-town sheriff's office, he unlocks it, holding it open as he waves the Intelligence team inside. No time is wasted because it's of the essence. Enough time had passed so they immediately jump into updating James and his two deputies on their case. On the profile of Landon Vanick and how he's mentally unstable and absolutely delusional to the point where he believes in his delusions wholeheartedly and will act out upon them. The month of her disappearance they've found out so much.

Landon has been planning this for months, years when they really think about it. And none of them saw it coming. A childhood friend turned monster with seeds of delusion sprinkled and grown throughout the years.

"We have to find her," Jay says frantically; he's filled with too much energy to just sit and listen, he has to move, he has to do something, "We have to get her. We can't leave her with him for another second. There's no telling what he's doing to her!"

"I don't know where he's taken her."

Jay snaps, "...then what do you know?!"

"They're staying at a cabin; it's on the outskirts of town, but this town has a lot of secluded cabins sprinkled around. I can't say for certain which one he's keeping her at."

"We need something," the tone of Jay's voice drops, "She's my wife! I can't just keep doing nothing. I'm sure there's something you overlooked. Maybe new eyes can find it?"

"She's your wife," James repeats, face scrunching up as he processes the last day, "Landon told me she was his wife. Landon convinced her they were married."

"That's not true," Jay exclaims immediately. He didn't want another second going by with James even thinking that Erin could be married to that monster, that she could even be in love with someone like him, someone so manipulative and calculated.

"Landon told us that Erin is his wife. She had no memory. She believed him. We did too."

Jay runs his hands down his face. He rubs his temples. He's so close to her, he can feel it. She's close, at least closer than what she was when he was in Chicago. He's frantic. He's needy; he needs to see her, to touch and hold her. He can feel Dawson throw an arm around his shoulders, offering him the silent support that he's been needing since Erin's disappearance.

"She's been missing for a month," Jay states flatly, eyes wide and desperate, "How long has she been here? When was the last time you saw her?"

"I saw her after the accident. I found her. I spoke with her. That was two weeks ago."

"…so we know she's been here for at least two weeks," Dawson asserts, moving to stand behind Mouse as he hooked his laptop up to the internet in the office, "Do you think she's still here?"

Halstead starts to pace. His anxiety shooting through the roof because she's within grasp, he can feel it, he can sense it. He knows they're talking about the case but it's hard for him to stay focused, to keep his emotions in check when he's so afraid. He's scared if he's being honest and he doesn't care if someone looks down on him for it or calls him weak, he's scared out of his mind that the love of his life is either dead or taken to a new location.

"I'm going to need the population of the town, the number of cabins that fall within the town line and the number of cabins that fall right outside of it. On the phone you said he visits the town to stock up on food and supplies, that means this is the closest town to the cabin. He isn't far."

"…but none of the cabins within the town or near the town line are vacant."

"Then that means he either killed the owners or he's also holding them there too."

* * *

Erin stops him at the door, hand reaching out to settle against his shoulder, "Landon," she plasters an innocent smile to her face, "Where are you going?"

"…just running to the store." He turns away from her, opening the front door.

"I'm going with you."

"No."

"Why not?"

She's supposed to be playing it cool but this is easier said than done. He was about to leave and if she played her cards right, there was a small chance she'd be able to leave with him.

"…because I said so, Erin."

Her shoulders drop, "I feel like a prisoner here. I need to breathe."

"You're staying," when he turns to go out the door, his shoulder bumps against hers, pushing her back, "if you want air, go outside and get it." He shuts the door in her face.

And all Erin can do is stare at it, contemplating whether or not she should just go for it. If she fights him, there's a chance she'll win. There's also a chance she won't and she's not willing to risk that.

She's going to get back home, alive, so if she has to play along a little longer then so be it.

The sound of the truck starting up breaks her out of her reverie. She turns away from the door, leaning back against it and releasing a sigh of frustration. She needs to think quick. She knows there's no point in trying the landline, now that her memories are back, she recalls him cutting the phonelines. It'll be pointless to try. She can try to walk on foot but she doesn't know where she's going and she doesn't want a repeat of what happened, especially because this time she might lose more than her memory. Erin grows anxious as she struggles to think of a plan. There has to be something, anything and when her eyes fall towards the table near the door, his uncased phone sitting there, tempting her to come forward, she suddenly thinks of an idea.

He forgot it. Going back and forth with her and trying to ensure she stayed while he left distracted him enough that he completely forgot about it. But, she knows him enough to know the second he remembers it, he'll come back.

Erin runs upstairs, ignoring the ache coursing through her body from the bruises caused by the fall. It's easy to ignore it when adrenaline is coursing through her bloodstream. She grabs the pair of pants she wore when she was leaving the hospital, searching her pockets until she withdraws the receipt the nurse left her number on. Just as fast, she runs back, not wanting to take the phone with her just in case he realized he forgot it and returned sooner than intended. It'll be easier to put it back where he left it if she stays there.

She dials the number. Her fingers shaking because this is the chance, the first chance she truly got since she remembered. But, the nurse doesn't answer. It rings and rings until it goes to voicemail.

"Hi," she sighs in relief once the beep sounded, alerting her to leave a message, "this is Erin, the girl who lost her memory. You gave me your number when I was leaving the hospital. I am in danger. I need you to contact the local police and the Chicago police. This man, Landon, he isn't my husband. I need help. I don't know my location but I'm surrounded by trees, the main road is over a mile away and," she pauses in order to open the front door to describe what she sees, "there's a rocking chair on the porch, a floral pattern seat cover, there's no driveway or garage, just a dirt road and there's," she shuts the front door and rushes to the back window to look out, "there's a garden filled with flowers, um purple, pink, white and red flowers," she scopes out the backyard through the window in search of something else to describe when her concentration is interrupted by the automated voice telling her that she ran out of time. She sends the voicemail.

She also redials the number. Still, there's no answer but she's said all she could say so she hangs up, dialing the emergency number next. She would have called them first, but she can't stay on the phone. She wanted record of a voicemail so it can be replayed. She worried her call would be outsourced. The nurse knows her and she hoped to get a quicker result if she spoke to someone who could call her husband directly. Maybe the nurse knows where the cabin is? It's a small town, she wouldn't be surprised. The main emergency number will be outsourced to the closest big police department, it's not going to the sheriff and she doesn't have time to wait for them to get someone to track the number, find out what town she's in and then contact the sheriff in the town.

It was just easier to call the nurse and have her go directly to the source.

The dispatcher answers and Erin doesn't get a chance to say a word because she hears him. He's back. And he's moving fast. All she has time to do is hang up, delete both numbers that were just dialed and set his phone back down before running to the den, tripping over her own two feet and landing on the couch.

"Landon?" She calls out from the den, "Is that you? That was fast."

He sees his cell phone, screen dark, and his heartbeat steadies, "Yeah," he picks it up and pockets it to make sure he doesn't forget it again, "I'm heading back out. I forgot my phone," he follows her voice to the den and leans over the couch to kiss her head, "I promise I won't be long. I love you." She doesn't say it back.

* * *

There's banging against the door to the sheriff's office. Bang after bang, pound after pound as the nurse uses the side of her fist to beat against the glass until someone unlocks it and lets her in.

The man that does, his face is unrecognizable, she's never seen him before but that doesn't stop her from pushing him to the side and running to find the sheriff, "James," she calls out, hunching over to catch her breath, "I've…I've been calling you."

The small town sheriff's office is a little over a mile away from the hospital and while she was out for lunch she checked her missed calls and voicemails. She didn't bring her car so she ran all the way from the diner to the sheriff's office because she didn't want to waste time going back to work to get it. Her heart is racing. And the detectives scattered around her, either watching her or flipping through files were people she had never met before, had never seen, "Sorry, my phone's charging. Is everything okay? You're out of breath," the sheriff grabs her by the elbow, "What's wrong?"

"Ph-phone," she breathes out, digging into her back pocket and withdrawing it to hold it up into the air, "my phone," she exclaims, typing in her passcode to unlock it, "you have to hear this voicemail. It's from…it's from Erin."

"Erin," it's Jay that shouts it and rushes over to practically snatch the phone out of her hand.

"I got two missed calls from her. She left a voicemail." She looks from the detective that's now holding her phone to James, "you have to hear it. She's in danger."

She gets her phone back. The team crowds around. And she plays it three times. Each time, notes are written down, but nothing of substance could be gathered from the clues she left for them.

"There has to be something in there," Jay's looking desperately at the nurse, "nothing that she said sounds familiar?"

"I'm sorry," the nurse shakes her head, "a lot of the cabins are on dirt roads and have gardens in the backyard. None of that stands out."

"If we can just get the vicinity the cabin is in-"

Mouse interrupts the sheriff, "Since we have a number, we can call him back, have her talk to him for as long as possible while I put a trace on where the call is coming from…"

"…but he doesn't know Erin placed that call, it's obvious that she snuck and did it," Jay reminded, "If we call, he'll know and I'm not putting my wife's life in even more danger than it's already in."

"Your wife," that term piques the nurse's interest, "I know in the voicemail she said Landon isn't her husband. You're her husband. She's actually married."

"Yes, it's a long story. One we can catch you up on when this is all over but for right now, we have to find her. At least we know she's still in the area. He hasn't left town with her."

Mouse rises from his seat, walking over to take the nurse's phone, "Halstead, I'm telling you, our best way to find her is to trace the call. If he does get suspicious, Erin is strong enough to hold him off until the team can get to her, but we have no other option. We've run out of them."

Jay swallows. It's not his decision to make; it's up to Voight, but Voight wouldn't make a decision like this without him. So when his boss looks at him from across the room, meeting his gaze, they have a silent conversation, it takes a few minutes before the two of them reach an agreement, sealing it with the nod of their head, "This better go right."

Mouse is quick on his feet, running back to his computer to plug the device into the software, "Okay, I'm going to need you to call Landon back," Voight directs the nurse, waving her to go up to the phone, "talk to him. Keep him on the phone for as long as possible."

"Bring up the fact that Erin needs to make a follow-up appointment," James helps to relieve her growing anxiety by giving her a realistic topic to discuss, "just act natural, just pretend he's another patient and you're doing your typical follow-up call."

"He's going to ask how I got his number."

"Hopefully we have a location before that happens."

James squeezes her shoulder in comfort as the number is dialed.

* * *

Landon doesn't recognize the number, however that doesn't stop him from answering, "Hello," he places the call on speaker, "this is Landon, who is this?"

The location tracker kicks in the second the call is answered.

"Hi Landon, this is Erin's nurse from the hospital," she says it so smoothly and James gives her a thumbs up for managing to keep her cool, "I'm giving you a call because Erin was supposed to reach out and schedule a follow-up appointment with the doctor. We haven't heard from her."

"I'll have her give you a call back."

"You can just schedule it for her. Right now."

"I don't have time. I'm busy. But I'll have her give you a call later."

Landon prepares to hang up but the nurse stops him seconds before he can tap the red button, "Wait," her mind scrambles to think of some way to keep him on the phone longer, "um," she bites her lip and looks frantically over at James, "it's important that she comes in for testing."

"I'll have her call you."

"…but, but-"

"How did you get this number?"

Her eyes avert around the room as she struggles to quickly think of an answer off the top of her head, "Well you uh you left the number in her contact information. You left two numbers."

They should have prepared better. She's sweating and she feels like he knows she's up to something, like there's an ulterior motive to her call.

"I'll have her return your call later. I have to go. Goodbye." He's off the phone without giving her a second to stop him. Maybe he knows? Maybe he's suspicious? Oh gosh, she hopes she didn't make this worse. She looks over at James, hoping that his face could clue her in to his thoughts.

His expression gives nothing away. And she fears that she may have made things worse.

"Do we have a location?" Jay rushes to stand behind Mouse, observing the screen as it tries to zero in on where the phone took place.

"…not somewhere specific. I don't have an address but I have a ten-mile radius. They're located somewhere within it."

James comes to take a look, hoping that since he knows the town, he can identify what cabins lie within the vicinity highlighted on the computer, "Wait," he whispers, leaning forward to take a closer look, "There's not much out there. It's a popular spot for camping, but there's only one cabin in that area," he looks up to meet Voight's stare, "I know exactly where that is! Follow me!"

* * *

Erin goes to the back window, unlocking it and raising it up a crack. He typically keeps them locked, alone every night he walks the cabin, checking the locks to ensure it hasn't been opened. She never questioned it, always assuming it has to do with keeping them safe when really, it's only to keep her locked in. It's a pattern of his, every night as she gets ready for bed, his paranoia peaks and he usually starts upstairs and makes his way downstairs checking every room and window.

It doesn't take him long because all the windows are typically locked. Not anymore though. Erin makes her way around the cabin, unlocking every single window, hoping it'll buy her a little more time to grab his keys and make a run for his truck. She just needs a head start. That's all.

Erin scopes out the cabin, searching every nook and cranny for any and everything that Landon hid from her. Maybe there's a weapon somewhere around here? Something she can use to defend herself if it ever comes a time they'll have to confront each other. She combs through the upstairs, searches the main level before venturing out into the backyard in search of the ax that Landon used to chop wood for the fire. She searches through the garden, peaking around the gardening tools before venturing a little into the woods, tripping over a root, falling hands first down into the dirt.

And that's when she sees it, the second she lifts her head, she sees the dead bodies of a couple.

Her mind flashes back to her time as a patrol officer and as a detective. She's remembering more details. She's remembering cases that she honestly didn't want to recall. Their pale faces, dull eyes and opened mouths frighten her, catching her off guard and sending her falling back. Hand over her heart she takes in a deep breath as she stares at the deceased bodies of who she can assume are the owners of the cabin she was led to believe belong to her and Landon.

He's killed. He's escalated.

So far in his delusion, he's shaping the outside world to support his beliefs. He killed them, stashed their bodies and hoped that they wouldn't be found. She has to get out of here. Today.

* * *

Landon holds the phone up when it starts to ring. He didn't make it far from the cabin, only a few minutes out before it rings for the second time. He thought it was the nurse calling back and he was prepared to send it to voicemail but when he reads the three emergency numbers flashing across the screen, he's quick to answer, "Hello," he pulls over to the side of the road, wanting to focus on carefully selecting the right words instead of staying within the lines of the road.

"Hi, this is dispatch. We've received a call from this number a few minutes ago."

"Oh," his mind flashes back to leaving his phone at the cabin and he puts the call on speaker, throws it onto the seat and busts a U-turn, not caring about staying within the lines because he needs to get back, screw the rules of the road, he has to get back to the cabin before she tries something else, "that was a mistake. Everything is just fine. It was an accident. I'm sorry."

Erin had used his phone to call during the brief time he left it behind. And if she did call then that means she got her memories back. How long has she remembered the truth?

"In the future sir, you can't just hang up on 911 dispatch. Just be a little more mindful next time."

He hangs up. And he presses his foot down harder against the gas.

* * *

Erin runs back into the house. Her wrist throbbing from the way she fell in the backyard. She didn't touch the bodies, she needs to preserve the crime scene until law enforcement gets here. She gives up on searching for the ax, it'll take too long and she needs to get away now. She runs into the kitchen, grabbing a knife out of the drawer before heading to the office, grabbing a pair of scissors off the desk, tucking each one into her pocket.

She runs upstairs. Grabbing a hair tie, she pulls her hair up into a bun, making sure no loose strands will get in her face. She needs to be focused. No distractions.

The sound of a truck pulling up alerts her to his return. It's too soon. He shouldn't be back yet. With all the times he's traveled into the town, she's timed it, she should have a lot more time left than what she has now. Something is wrong. Something is different. This is too quick. She hears his feet slapping against the dirt road before the front door flies open, hitting the wall with such force that she wonders if it got damaged, "Erin!" He shouts her name; his voice so angry and irate.

Something is definitely not right. She has to think of a backup plan, of a way to get out of this cabin and make a run for it, into the woods until she's as far away as possible. It isn't realistic for her to get the keys away from him now, she doesn't have the advantage of using his naïveté in him thinking her memory was still gone, she can't wait until night when he does his bedtime routine of checking every single window. She no longer has the advantage because something changed.

"Erin, I am calling you! Come here, right now!"

She needed to think, think of something, of some way to survive this because after the first attack, she doubts he makes the same mistake of leaving her alive a second time.

"Get down here now! Don't make me have to look for you! I'm serious!"

And to buy herself a little more time to come up with some type of plan, she tucks away, sliding underneath the bed, covering her mouth with her good hand and wrist in the hopes that it'll suppress the sound of her breathing.

* * *

Landon doesn't stop calling her name. With every step he takes upstairs, he shouts for her louder. He sounds frenzied. And she flashes to the night he pushed her, before he chased her, he sounded the same, calling out for her, threatening to take away her last breath. And she fears a repeat will happen. She can't afford to lose this round.

She slips the pair of scissors from her pocket, clenching them in her hand, ready to use them the second he finds her because he will find her. It's inevitable.

Her knuckles whiten the second the bedroom door flies open, slamming against the wall. He's so close and she can see his shoes, the dry mud around the edges of the boot and stained into his black laces. She holds her breath, praying that he doesn't find her even though she knows he will.

The floorboards beneath his feet creak.

He mutters curse words under his breath.

And just when she thinks he's about to leave, that she managed to trick him into thinking she wasn't in the room, his head pops out, "Gotcha!" He announces. She tries to crawl towards the opposite side of the bed, trying to put as much distance between them as possible but he's too quick and he has much more room than she currently has at the moment.

Nails digging into the floorboard when his hands wrap around her ankles. The scissors fall from her grip, remaining slightly under the bed when he quickly puts her from beneath it. She kicks back, the heel of her foot hitting his thigh in an effort to break away. He groans, "Erin," he doesn't sound pleased.

Landon lifts the bed frame, raising it up and throwing it back as much as he can before he reaches for her arm, pulling her up and shoving her backwards, back off her feet until she lands on her behind. He's treating her as if she's nothing, as if she weighs absolutely nothing and when he backhands her, she reaches for the scissors, his feet stepping onto them, kicking them away before she has the chance to snatch them up, "Stop," she shouts, "Landon stop. I mean it!"

His movements cease but he's still looking at her. His head tilts, taking in her desperate form, eyes pleading with him to relax. He's too wound up, "You were my wife! You lied to me," he takes a step towards her, "We don't lie to each other." He acts so fast. He doesn't give her an opportunity to block his attack.

* * *

Landon overpowers her, rolling her over to sit upon her abdomen. He tightens his grip around her wrists and pushes her arms above her head, pinning them to the hardwood floor, "When did you get your memory back? When did you start to remember?"

She squirms beneath him, cringing when he brings his face closer to repeat himself. He brings her wrists together to hold them with one hand while the other one starts to travel down her body, caressing her face, touching her neck, stroking every part of her until he stops at her pocket, he reaches inside and immediately pulls out the knife she's been hiding there, "After all I've done for you," he exclaims heartbroken, "you were going to stab me in the back."

"No I wasn't," she asserts the truth. She might have planned to stab him but it wasn't going to be in the back, "I just needed it for protection."

"…against me?"

"No," she whispers, staring into his crazed eyes; they're so wide and desperate that she knows for her safety she needs to play along, "I would never hurt you Landon, you're my husband."

"You don't believe that."

"…but I do."

"Then why did you call the police?!" Specks of spit shoot out of his mouth and sprinkle across her face. He's shouting; he's manic. She squirms beneath him, struggling to loosen his grip, "You called them," he brings the knife down to her neck, "which means you don't think you belong here but you do because you're my wife and I love you so much."

"I…I love-"

"You can barely say it! You're lying! You don't love me!"

"Yes I do!"

He brings the knife closer to her neck and her eyes suddenly widen in fear when he holds it there, gripping it so firmly and pressing it against her skin so hard that if he moves just an inch, it'll cut her, "Landon, just listen to me," she tries to explain but he doesn't want to hear it.

"Shut up. I've done everything for you and this is how you repay me. I took you from a loveless marriage. I nursed you back to health after you got hurt! And you betray me."

"No…" she whispers softly. She meets his eyes; his crazed gaze and she knows there's no way of getting through to him. He's so lost in his delusion that he's his own worst enemy.

This is it. This is the end. She didn't win this round. She doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her take her last breath. She shuts her eyes, not wanting to witness the final blow he lays upon her when she hears it.

Three shots ring out. And she doesn't know who shot the weapon because her eyes were closed and her breath was held as she prepared for the inevitable stab or slice from the knife.

She eases her eyes open to take a glance when she notices three bullet holes in his chest. He tries to speak but he doesn't have the energy. Instead, he falls forward, dead weight pinning her to the ground and she starts to panic and squirm, struggling to get from under him.

His dead body, his blood, his last breath, it's all too much and when someone shoves him from off the top of her, she rolls over, releasing the contents of her stomach near the feet of her savior.

"You always told me not to wear my favorite pair of shoes to work."

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she peers up at him. Three shots had gone through Landon's back and exited out his chest. It was no way he could survive that. And she needed to stop looking at him if she didn't want to get sick again.

"Babe," she hears that voice, that familiar voice filled with less authority and anger than the one he typically uses when on the job, "come on, let's get you out of here," he extends his hand after handing over his gun to Voight. He was the one to shoot Landon. He was the one to save her. She puts her hand in his and in less than a second he has her up on her feet and in his arms, hugging her so hard, holding her so snug that it's literally keeping her together, keeping her from breaking down in his arms in relief that this is all over. She's going to leave this cabin and never come back.

* * *

The paramedics look her over. A few bumps and bruises and her wrist is a little sore but she'll live. She's fine. The sheriff takes down her statement. She's going to be okay. She's going home. Burgess gives her a bottle of water to rinse her mouth out. Ruzek gives her a stick of gum. Voight walks over with a knitted blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders before pressing a kiss against her forehead, "You alright, kid?"

She turns her head away when she sees the bodies of the cabin's owners being carried out, covered by a white sheet.

"Yeah," her raspy voice sighs in relief, "I never thought I would miss you as much as I did."

She's wrapped up in his arms, feeling so safe and protected, and she never wants to leave them. It takes her back to when she was a kid, in search of a parental figure that actually cared about her.

"When I lost my memory, Landon told me that my parents died." She buries her face into him, inhaling the familiar scent of Voight's cologne; he's been wearing the same one for as long as she can remember, -it's Camille's favorite, "he told me he was my husband. He told me you were dead. For a moment too long, I actually thought you were dead."

"I don't plan on dying anytime soon. It's going to be alright kid," he's rubbing her back, rocking her side to side, offering her comfort the best way she knows how, "it's over now. Landon is dead."

"It's so creepy when you think about it. I was in a house with this man for weeks, living with him, thinking I chose to share my life with him. If I didn't get my memory back…"

"…let's not go there," he says through gritted teeth.

He's right. She doesn't want to go there. He squeezes her shoulders and gently pulls away, "I'm going to talk to James, go over a few things and clear out the scene."

Erin wipes her eyes and watches him go. She turns around, scoping out the area in search of Jay, looking to see if he's finished giving his statement. Staring across the expanse of darkness, of the dirt road that she's ready to get as far away from as possible, she sees him. And he sees her. He rushes, moving into her space, closing the distance between them to cup her cheeks in his hands, "I love you," he kisses her hard, stealing away what was left of the air in her lungs, "damn I love you so much. I'm never letting you out of my sight again." This reunion was a long time coming.

* * *

Erin hugs the sheriff. She hugs the nurse too. She hugs them both so tightly because she appreciates their role in finding her. Without them, she doesn't want to imagine what would have happened to her.

"You'll have to visit us sometime in the future," the sheriff pats her on the back, "or maybe we can take a trip up to Chicago, see how the big city folks live."

"I would love that. A lot actually."

"Great, then we'll make sure it happens when you're up for visitors."

* * *

It's late by the time Erin is back in Chicago. It's nearing sunrise and fortunately Voight gave him the rest of the week off. She didn't want to get a hotel. She didn't want to stay another day away from home. She walked inside, the familiar sight in front of her brings her an indescribable joy. Everything is just how she left it.

"What's going through that mind of yours?"

"I'm just glad to be home."

"…me too." Jay pulls her into his arms, nuzzling his face into her neck and breathing in the smell of his wife, tightening his arms around the warm and comforting body of hers, "This last month has been hard without you. Very hard. I'm just," his voice cracks, "I'm just so happy you're back. I thought..." he doesn't finish that statement. He doesn't want to go down that road. He's had too many nightmares of what he thought happened to her. But, she's fine. She's alive. She's healthy. She's alright.

He cups her face and presses his lips against her head, holding them there until they both grew tired.

* * *

Erin is showered but it still feels like she needs another one just to wash off the mess of the day. It's hard to believe that she spent a month with Landon and for over a week she actually thought he was her husband, she actually believed she married him. She shivers in Jay's embrace, his arms so warm and protective around her as they lay in bed, watching an early morning infomercial. She couldn't sleep. And neither could he.

An empty bowl of popcorn rests on the end table to his right. An empty glass of water rests on the end table to her left. The adrenaline from the events of today are finally wearing off and now her body can finally relax, no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop, "I want to keep in contact with the sheriff," she says out of the blue but it doesn't surprise him. He knows Erin. He expected this.

"I think that's a good idea."

She slightly turns her head to face him, "You do?"

"Yeah, he had a hunch and he didn't stop looking into things until he got answers."

"I invited them to visit. I also want to send him thank you flowers."

"That's nice of you."

"…and I know he didn't do it for the thanks but I think it'll make me feel better. He's the one that found me, he visited me in the hospital and he even went back to check in on me when I never made an appointment. He didn't have to do that but I appreciate that he did."

"You are amazing, you know that?"

"This was a crazy month Jay," she humorlessly chuckles, "I had a beautiful life to remember and I actually forgot it. I couldn't remember you. I couldn't remember me. All I had was what Landon told me. Misery loves company and Landon was so fucking delusional he actually thought I was in love with him. I can't believe I didn't see this coming. He was spiraling out of control, losing his mind and he actually kidnapped me. I didn't see this coming a mile away. He was cool, a good friend when we were kids and this is how he turned out," she shakes her head, trying to knock the disbelief out of it.

"It happened over time," he repeats the words Dr. Charles told him, "he didn't just decide this overnight. He planned all of this practically months in advance and he started losing control of his thoughts and believing his delusions earlier than that. It was us getting married that kicked him into action, that really triggered his obsession."

Erin grew silent, staring forward, reliving what happened to her in the last month. She was taken from the parking garage and she woke up in a warehouse then she was taken from there to Wisconsin. She had no idea his endgame. Maybe it was to kill her? The whole if he can't have her no one can, "I don't want to think about that right now. I don't want to give him anymore power over my mind," she shakes her head, "life is short, Jay," she sits up and turns around to look at him, "Shorter than what I initially realized. I don't want to waste another second," she rests her hand below his chin, thumb rubbing against the dimple there, "I'll talk with Dr. Charles because I know you're going to press me about it but I also want to talk with you about us, about our future, our life and plans and hopes for it."

Now it's his turn to sit up, "What do you mean?"

"We've been putting off starting our family for the longest. It was never the right time, we weren't living together and then when we were, we weren't making much money and then when we did, we weren't married and once we got married, I was kidnapped. It was never the right time but maybe now it is," he opens his mouth, ready to reassure her that there was no rush, that they should focus on her healing and getting back to work, "I know, I know what you're going to say but just listen to me for a second. Hear me out," he nods and her face softens, looking at this man that couldn't bear to stay one night in their home without her, "I don't want to waste another second. Before I was taken, we talked about kids, we even argued about them because there was never the perfect time, but after everything that happened with Landon, with my memory, I'm ready, Jay. I'll talk to Dr. Charles for as long as I need and a baby doesn't just appear overnight, it's going to take time, but I'm ready. I want to share that with you. Landon was miserable and delusional and he wanted me to join him in that. Those first couple of days after he took me all he talked about was you, how I chose you over him, how I married you and will eventually start a family with you and all I could think about was how we may never get that chance. I want that with you. I want that chance."

He reaches for her hands, grasping them between his own, "And you'll have that with me. I promise but for right now it's just us and I don't want to talk about Landon, he's gone, I want to talk about us, just us and what our future holds, a baby, vacations, maybe a pet?"

Erin rises to her knees and leans across the bed to kiss him, caressing his cheek with one hand as her mouth explores his. This feels normal. This feels natural. Even if she had no memories, she'd know, or at least she hoped she'd know that she belonged with Jay Halstead and only him. Her heart fluttered, her pulse sped up and her breath was stolen as he wrapped his arms around her and rolled her onto her back, hovering above her to continue the kiss that she started, "I love you," he whispers against her lips and she smiles, dimples appearing just as she whispers the same sentiment back to him, "I love you too."


End file.
